The new food morality

The Hoover Institution recently published this piece on the shifting morality of food and sex. Take it for what it's worth, but the increasing religious/mystical component of food and its followers is a subject deserving of more exposure. This serious essay provides a good deal of it.

Food mythology momentum

The tide is shifting, it seems.
While there are still outbreaks of breathless nonsense about food (acai, anyone?), the amount of writing I bump in to that tries to deflate all the puffery about cuisine and diet has increased. Take this piece that's right on the nose about food mythology.

More truth from The Onion

One of the unfortunate, and inexcusable, reasons that my motivation for food writing has waned is because the ether is so filled with "foodie" hot air. Sometimes it's best to let others make a very simple point, like this.

2009

A friend scolded me, correctly, for being away for so long. So I'm back.
Ruhlman posted this (profane) video on his blog. But I thought it was worthy of a rebroadcast, so to speak, and addresses more food nonsense that I love to poke at. More to come. Until then, enjoy.

Nutritionists

Just read the first part of this article by Michelle Slatalla of the New York Times and you'll see why nutritionists should reside below members of congress on popularity lists. To summarize, the article is really about the increasing popularity of community agriculture - monthly baskets of local fruits and vegetables - a swell idea. But the story features an episode in which the author and her husband, sipping beer on their stoop, cower from a nutritionist neighbor in order to avoid talking about their cholesterol-laden dinner choice. It's written cutely, maybe facetiously. But not completely. And that's enormously sad, silly, and even counterproductive for anyone who claims to be "health conscious." Why?
Well, there's the real oversight of Ms. Slatalla. She prominently features Michael Pollan's School of Sensible Eating in her piece. Yet Pollan himself is entirely dismissive of nutritionism, as he should be. Nutritionists have been wrong about food and its human effects for nearly a century. Few fields of study seem to be as filled with nonsense, poor science, unwarranted fear, and bad rules to live by. Yet Slatalla shares the sentiments of many when claiming to fear a confrontation with her nutritionist neighbor. And for what reason? Because she planned to "grill a big fat steak brushed with butter" for dinner. The horror! Not only that, but she then feels the need to make amends by sharing their desire to include more vegetables in their diet. Bully for them, but why in the world should that matter to anyone else, including their assumedly nosy nutritionist friend?
So this is where we are, apparently - conditioned to feel guilty, or worse, for eating a steak. I'll pass. Oh, and for dinner tonight, grilled vegetables with plenty of olive oil flavored with some local pork sausage. For god's sake, don't mention it to any of my neighbors.

Screw you, Powerbar

I suspect there will be plenty more evidence, like this, emerging that supports the idea that most athletic-related food is bogus. Good.
How can one be inherently pro-commerce yet anti food hucksterism you might ask? Simple. The market works most effectively with the widest possible access to information, including research that debunks all the food nonsense that is taken as fact. Powerbar, and all the athletic-focused dreck on the market, is a small, brief blip in American food history. The sooner they become history, because consumers choose real food over their stuff, the better.

A (glancing) blow to the food puritans

Chicago has lifted its 2-year-old ban on foie gras. Such news would typically merit open celebration as legislators are rightfully shamed in to removing themselves from your dinner choices. But, as the article makes clear, there is no moral victory in what seems to be another example of legislative spinelessness and railroading (no, not unique to Chicago, but it sure seems that way).
Moreover, I confess that...I don't love foie gras. That's right. And the practice of force feeding geese seems just odd. Nothing that keeps me awake at all at night. But, odd. None of which encourages the slightest desire to have our fearless legislators ban the practice. As always I appreciate the voice of the people - the dining public. If and when they decide not to buy the stuff any more, that'll be fine with me.

Aldo's, Los Gatos

Our close family friends (and they are not alone) adore Aldo's with it's uber-friendly servers, accessible drinks and standard Italian-American dishes. And, admittedly, it's a good place for rambunctious children. If only the review could end here.
Surely there are many reviews of Aldo's that attempt to point out its failure of "authenticity." But that misses the point. More importantly, it is a general blow to ones culinary intelligence, exuding the plasticine sense of a Disneyesque Italy outlet while producing largely flavorless dishes with distinctive notes of frozen food and vacuum packing. Whether it's authentically Italian or not is largely irrelevant when the food and drink simply are not very good.
Gnocci are overcooked, taste frozen, and spackled in an overwrought blue-cheese dressing. Cannoli gasp for air in a pool of indistinguishable packaged cream sauce, which accents the saccarine twang of the ricotta cream. A chocolate martini arrives proudly adorned with flaccid whipped cream redolent of aerosol and artificial sweetener. Is anything actually made in house? Perhaps it all is, but there's not much evidence to support it.
On the positive side, the rigatoni is cooked well and not oversauced with a perfectly acceptable version of a home-cooked meat sauce - faint praise for sure.
To say more would feel like picking on dear Aldo, who has carved out a successful niche in the family dining space. One can only hope that as tastes evolve, consumers will either demand more accountability from their friends at Aldo's, or find another less cynical place to dine casually.

Number of visits: 2

Aldo's
14109 Winchester, Campbell

Yes, nanny

Where to begin?

5 Restaurants in Manhattan Get Citations...

Greening

For the most recent foray into culinary eco-Stakhanovism scroll to the bottom of today's Inside Scoop.
It will be fascinating to see whether there is any correlation at all between earning the highest blessings of this group, and creative, good food. Apparently it's not enough to earn thimmakka's certification, a perfectly fine idea. One must aspire to greenest-of-all status. Another tiresome attempt to impose uber-virtue on food.

May 7 Dinner

For my own record keeping, and the sake of posterity, I'm going to start recording menus that I produce.

Our friend, Pam, visited last night prompting this.

apples & feta with spiced walnuts, balsamic vinaigrette
butter lettuce, candied walnuts, feta in pear vinaigrette
butter & cream poached chicken, orange scented quinoa, chardonnay reduction
coffee & zinfandel braised short ribs, charred green & yellow onions
chardonnay & olive oil cake, strawberry coulis, montana clover honey

2005 Sea Smoke Southing Pinot Noir

A new detour

While between gigs there's more time to comment on the food scene. The musings about food and the culture, most of it commentary on the hyperbolic and self-important, began before culinary school. But now there's time for more.

Rare is the restaurant now that does not claim to cook seasonally and locally (for example). It came to mind reading this review of Bar Jules, which sounds delightful, truthfully. But there's a level of bunk associated with the local/seasonal mantra. Every day, at most restaurants, at least one diesel truck parks in the alley and unloads much of the local/seasonal product. On rare occasion at Rumi the chef would carry in shopping bags of local vegetables purchased from the farmers market. But the fact that most food is delivered in smelly trucks begs the question: how local is it, really? The artichokes from Salinas, Lodi grapes, Mexican basil? How close does it have to be to qualify as "local?" For the foodier-than-thou I'm not sure what the answer is. For the reasonable, I'm not sure it matters a great deal. As always, you simply don't want your intelligence to be insulted. You know local when you see it, basically. But let's not pretend that "local" food offers some sort of culinary salvation when it's entirely unclear what the term constitutes. And yes, it is largely preferable to eat things that were grown/raised near ones home - I'm not arguing against that point. Let's just be careful about the puffery and advertising cache of terms like "local."

There are many examples of restaurants that serve what is grown on their own land, but here is my favorite: Gibb's Farm. A rare breed, and home to the single most satisfying meal of my life.

Next!

Rumi hired a full time cook and therefore has no need for a part-timer like me. I'm still "on call" as a substitute. But I don't hold out a great deal of hope that I'll be re-hired or used very often. I'm disappointed because I enjoyed working there. But it will give me the chance to write about my experiences there. More to come.

Why I may be busier soon

I may be busier than I expected because of this.

I'm a cook

Rumi made an offer and I accepted it. I just completed my 3rd day as a professional cook. It's good to be back in the kitchen and working. More to come, surely.

An offer

Rumi has offered me a part-time position as a pantry and line cook on the weekends. I'm likely to take it.
I didn't think working in a restaurant was a good idea, as evidenced by earlier blog entries. But this could work: the food is delicious and the chefs are interesting and pleasant (so far). I did a mini stage (fancy word for tryout) on Tuesday, and the environment is mellow with some extremely interesting spice combinations and recipes. So the offer is quite tempting. The obstacle is another job opportunity with a catering firm, but my enthusiasm is waning for them. We'll see what their next steps are tomorrow. But I could be in the business as early as Thursday.
The blog is alive again.

Village Pub, Woodside

To call the Village Pub a dependable neighborhood destination is accurate, but utterly insufficient. Its highly accomplished and satisfying menu is augmented by beautifully proper but comfortable surroundings. Bring the well-behaved child, have a burger and wine at the bar, or reserve an anniversary table - the Village Pub is appropriate for each. And while quality showed some hiccups several visits ago, that issue has stabilized thoroughly. It is a standout among Peninsula dining destinations.
Brief highlights: some call sea bass the tofu of fishes, flavored mainly by means of its seasonings and accompaniments. Chef Sullivan encases his in simply seasoned and crusted potato slices with sublime results. Rack of pork can be a dicey proposition. Even normally dependable restaurants can turn out unintentionally chewy swine. Not here. Its white polenta bed appears to blend in with the plate itself, but provides a homey contrast to the pork. Charcuterie is largely home made, and delicious. The wine list is extensive and interesting, but short on the truly local producers served by the glass. And service is attentive and not-too-stuffy.
How appetizing; We'll be back for more very soon.

Village Pub
2967 Woodside Rd., Woodside

Number of visits: >5

Viognier, San Mateo

The holiday season allowed for some new dining opportunities, thus the chance to comment on them.
My patience for writing comprehensive restaurant reviews is limited, so the style will be to cover the big beats of these places. Take it for what it's worth.
Vioginier is located (strangely?) above the upscale Draeger's market in San Mateo, which gives it the shiny-catalog patina of high prices and fancy cooking utensils. But the atmosphere does fall short, stretching to fit an upscale image it can't fulfill.
To say the food is disappointing ascribes higher expectations to it than it deserves. Suffice it to say that it was not good, highlighted by butternut squash rice pudding that was wishfully called "risotto." Individual grains of rice were genuinely unrecognizable, and the entire mass was hidden crazily by a layer of delicate greens. The flavor was not unpleasant, but combined with the tapioca consistency it remained nearly entirely uneaten (no notice made by our waiter). Very surprising that any cook would serve it, frankly, it was so overdone.
The rib eye was quite nice, equally well produced as hundreds of others, nicely fatty and crusty. Its traditional accompaniments, creamed spinach and potato-Emmentaler gratin were superb and memorable. The price? $40. Ridiculous. And $25 for the butternut squash-starch pile.
Starters of charcuterie & cheese and beet salad were fine, if unremarkable, which would be completely forgiven if not for being wildly overpriced for the overall quality.
Draeger's had a certain upscale concept in mind when it created Viognier. Most local diners will know what it aspires to. But it fails - not without some charm and certain well executed flavors. But overall a place to overlook until the quality of what it produces even approaches the height of the prices charged for it.

Viognier
222 E. 4th St., San Mateo

Number of visits: 1

Mama cooking

"Why did you get in to cooking?"

I hear that question a lot (not necessarily directed toward me). There was a San Francisco Chronicle article published back in June that articulated many of the reasons love doing this. Suffice it to say, I have no interest in becoming Ferran Adria (nor could I).

A change in course

The strictly educational portion of my culinary experience is supposedly over, and it's time for an update. Time to find work. So I'm pounding the virtual pavement among Peninsula-based catering firms with a potential gig on the 14th. This is the course to take under current conditions: ad hoc catering gigs. It's appealing to me, it pays sufficiently, and offers the kind of flexibility the family needs. So that's the course. Not terribly exciting but the expected result of this career change. Why?
There was no shortage of research before I made the decision to become a cook, and everything indicated that at my age and in my family situation a full time restaurant gig would not be feasible. The research was correct as proven by my time at the Four Seasons. Those night hours are rough.
So the job search proceeds. And though it's exciting to start getting paid for demonstrating the skills I've acquired, I miss school - mainly the people. But it was time to move on regardless.